Amongst the Sea of Faces
by Lady Icicle
Summary: Day by day, she sits in that little cafe. Ever the silent observer, she watches people pass by, unaware of just how much she affects the lives of the people she meets. Sakura-centric, AU.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hello everyone!

Just a little idea that hit me today at work as I stared out the window, and it won't leave me alone. So I wrote this hoping that it would get me unstuck with Chapter Thirteen of VINTA. No such luck. Oh well.

Unlike my other stories, the main focus of this won't be romance, though there will be hints here and there of some romantic feelings and such. I mostly want to focus on Sakura's interactions with the people around her. Also, there won't be an Inner Sakura in this story.

Summary: Day by day, she sits in that little café. Ever the silent observer, she watches people pass by, unaware of just how much she affects the lives of the people she meets. Sakura-centric, AU.

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Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. If I did... well.

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Amongst the Sea of Faces

Chapter One

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Day after day, she sits in front of the windows of the cafe, staring aimlessly out into the crowds passing by. She watches the people going about their busy lives, absently noting the tiny aspects of their day that inevitably leaks through their actions. That man, talking on the phone, has just received bad news. Someone has died. His expression struggles to remain passive, but eventually, it crumples. His hand, still holding the device to his ear, shakes, but there is no surprise on his face. Most likely, that person has succumbed to an illness. A slow, painful death.

That woman, with the white overcoat and fashionable boots, on the other hand, has had a fantastic day. The way she happily fiddles with the engagement ring on her finger belies the reason: she was recently proposed to, by someone she loves very much; it must have been just a few days ago. Her hand then drifts to her lower abdomen, caressing the slight bump that can be seen even through her coat. She was pregnant, then, but it had not been a marriage out of obligation. Rather, while the pregnancy had been unplanned, it was not unwanted, and the woman is overall, very happy with the way things have turned out.

Sakura's eyes then drift to the other faces in the crowd, drawing assumptions and just as quickly forgetting them, letting wave after wave of information wash through her mind. It was therapeutic, cleansing even.

Sometimes, those she observes feel her gaze, and they glance back at her, seeing the pretty, well-dressed girl with oddly coloured hair sitting in a café, head resting on her palm. Her eyes pierce through them, though, and they feel strangely as if they are being taken apart piece by piece, layer by layer, until they are laid bare before her. It makes them uncomfortable, and they avert their eyes and hurry on. Most times, though, they are oblivious to the silent observer, nestled away in that inconspicuous store. Too absorbed in their daily lives, they scurry ever on, stuck in a never-ending rat race. They take no notice of the girl, nor do they care for her. Her existence means nothing to them.

She rather thinks she prefers it that way.

However, she does not go unnoticed by those in the café. Least of all, by the five staff who regularly work there.

The owner is a man in his mid-twenties. He has spiky silver hair that defies gravity and leans in one direction, and only one visible eye – it is black. His other eye is covered by a medical patch, just barely visible behind the hair that flops down to cover it, as if it had been recently injured, but Sakura knows it is not. He has had that patch since she first visited the café, a year ago. The lower portion of his face is perpetually covered by something – a scarf, in winter, and other times, a simple black cloth mask, or a flu mask. Even if he did not wear them, though, Sakura doubts she'd ever catch a glimpse of his face, as his head is always buried in one of the books from the notorious Icha Icha series. His name is Kakashi.

The manager of the shop is also a man in his mid-twenties, albeit slightly younger than Kakashi himself. He has brown hair, spiked haphazardly, and dark, deep set eyes. He also has a penchant for carrying a torch around and using something that others call his 'Scary Face' whenever one of the staff is being particularly troublesome. Aside from that, he is polite and friendly, albeit often distant. He knows all the regular customers by name, and makes an effort to chat with them, though he is sensitive enough to sense when his company is desired and when it is not. He also takes care of the plants that are scattered over the café. His name is Yamato.

The resident barista is younger, maybe only a year or so older than Sakura, and is a young man with extremely pale skin, inky black eyes and jet black hair that hangs in his eyes. His thin lips are pulled into a perpetual smile, though it is cold and emotionless. His brews are excellent, and he always manages to find the perfect balances in whatever type of tea Sakura decides she wants to have that day. When the café is silent and he has spare time, he sits at a table near the counter and spreads scrolls across its surface. His ink paintings are beautiful. His name is Sai.

The pastry chef is rarely seen by Sakura, as he prefers to dwell in the kitchen. It is only when he is certain that only the regulars – a group in which Sakura is included – are present that he emerges. He looks strikingly similar to Sai, and is about the same age, though his complexion is more fair than pale, and his well-sculpted features make many girls swoon. However, Sakura is more interested in his culinary skills – his cakes are always flawlessly made and decorated, each slice a work of art and an explosion of taste. He takes extreme pride in his work, and insults to his creations do not bring about anything good. His name is Sasuke.

The cashier and occasional errand boy is also in the same age group as Sai and Sasuke, though he is their polar opposite in both looks and personality. He sports wild blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a sunny smile, and his demeanour is such that any customer that walks in feels at ease around him. He is an earnest worker, though he has the hardest time of them all adhering to Kakashi's rule – above all, the most important thing about The Café is that it permeates an aura of peace and happiness. Oftentimes, Yamato chides him for making a ruckus. His name is Naruto.

Despite their various differences, however, there is one thing that the five men have in common:

They find themselves constantly watching Her.

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Sometimes, it's raining, and she watches the streams of water running down the pane with a faint smile. A sad smile, one that they find doesn't suit her. The rain, she had once confided in Kakashi, as he lounged next to her, eyes on his book, is both beautiful and unfailingly tragic to her. It never fails to make her nostalgic. He never asked what memories they made her remember, despite how much he wondered.

Sometimes, it's sunny, and the smile adorning her lips on those days is so beautiful it takes their breath away.

Sometimes, she's sad, and she enters the cafe with a slightly slower step, a touch more melancholy than usual. At those times, sadness is draped about her like a mantle, as she stares morosely out the window, almost enviously. They imagine that she envies the people she sees going about their lives, even those who are sad. It brings up the question of what her life is like, that she is even jealous of them. The questions burns in them, eager to be let out, but they never ask. Her eyes shine a little more than usual, but no one brings it up.

On those days, Kakashi looks up from his book, gives Yamato a subtle nod, and the three youngest are put to work.

Sai begins to pick tea leaves, dried fruit, and other ingredients, adding precisely measured amounts of each into a pot, brewing a concoction whose preparation requires intense focus and intricate detail. Sasuke quickly removes a light sponge cake from the oven, expertly slicing and decorating it, tweaking its taste using flavoured cream and icing and fruits, so that it goes along superbly with the concoction that Sai creates. Naruto brings out the delicate china that she favours so, and sets it out, ready to be used. Yamato takes over the manning of the cash register.

Finally, they set down a pot of her favourite tea, a slice of her favourite cake, and Naruto's sunny smile before her, and it lifts her spirits, just a bit. But it is enough. She smiles at each of them in turn, gratitude plain on her face, though her sadness is still there, in those beautiful emerald eyes, in the weak upturn of her lips.

Today is one such day.

Surrounded by her favourite food, drink, and with pleasant company, their efforts barely manage to dent the surface of her melancholy. However, it is the fact that they tried, that they _care_, that warms her heart, and though her smile is weak, it is genuine.

She dwells in that little world, the funny, cosy little cafe that sits along a busy street, sandwiched between a music store and one that sells sporting equipment, as long as she dares, until she can no longer ignore the glaring hands of her elegant, extremely expensive watch; it is time for her to return.

So she swirls the last of her tea in the delicate porcelain cup, downs it in one go, and sets the cup down with a soft clink, that somehow manages to ring with finality.

She stands, and leaves the cafe, not bothering to look back. With or without her, that cafe, that tiny little world, would move on, and she is well aware that her presence is nothing more than a whisper of a breeze - fleeting, largely unfelt, insignificant. She, who is cast in the role of a silent observer, does not bring about any change at all. She does not draw attention to herself, neither does she desire to. As always, that world would continue as it has for years, unaffected by her.

Little does she know.

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AN2: Voila! Just a little bit of introduction and such. Truthfully, I don't know if I will continue this or not, so I suppose it partly depends on the response as well. So, please review!

XOXO

Ice


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Hello again! Here's the next chapter. I was really excited to write some stuff about this character, because I haven't had the opportunity to do so in my other stories. So, here he is! Please enjoy, and comments about his characterization would be much appreciated!

Thanks to all those who reviewed and added this story/me to their lists!

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Disclaimer: Me? Own Naruto? I should be so lucky.

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Amongst the Sea of Faces

Chapter Two

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He had been surprised when his little brother decided to become a pastry chef.

If he were to be completely honest with himself, Itachi would say that he does not approve of his brother's rather foolish and whimsical career choice. However, Sasuke is his brother, and they have already lost too much. If Sasuke wants to be a chef, then that is what he will be.

And despite his own reservations about it, ever the supportive older brother, Itachi shows up at the café regularly. His initial intent for visiting was simply to show support for Sasuke; he is pleasantly surprised when he tastes the cake his little brother has baked – it is delicious, and he has always had a sweet tooth. He has never known his brother to be talented in the kitchen, which had been part of the reason for his scepticism. Then again, it was not as if his father would have approved, so it is likely that Sasuke had hidden his talent for that reason.

To his quiet surprise, Itachi finds that he genuinely enjoys visiting the café. There is good food, and the teas that the barista brews are impeccable, tasteful, works of art in and of themselves. The atmosphere, too, is much appreciated. Peaceful, quiet, yet filled with the presence of people, Itachi finds that he can relax there. There is an added bonus – the storefront is nondescript, slightly shabby, and it does not at all hint to the extraordinary world that it holds. Consequentially, it is not at all attractive to the young girls that pass it by on the street, particularly those of the fan girl variety. Rather, the patrons tend to keep to themselves, or interact mainly with the staff.

It is a pleasant place to pass the time, and Itachi can often be found there, with the latest newspaper opened to the economics section, or a bunch of papers to look through.

One ordinary day, though, after years of ordinary, uneventful visits to the café, a meeting with a seemingly ordinary girl turns Itachi's world on its side.

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He notices her the moment he enters.

She is sitting on one of the high seats at the window, facing outside. Her posture is graceful, her legs tucked elegantly to the side of the stool, elbows resting on the bench table that runs the entire length of the massive window that takes up majority of the storefront. She seems to be engrossed in the world outside, and despite her vibrant pink hair and green eyes, there is something about the look in her eyes and the way her profile is illuminated by the faint daylight streaming through the windows that reminds him of old, black and white portraits and nostalgic memories. She seems detached, as if she were not really there, living life alongside the rest of them.

A statue, Itachi realises, that is what she reminds him of. A beautiful statue carved out of marble, observing the people passing her by.

He has never seen her before – of that he is certain, for who can forget someone such as her? – and he surmises that she must be a new customer. He then gives himself a mental shake. The girl is interesting, but it is of no concern to him. He draws his gaze away from her, sends a nod of acknowledgement to Kakashi and Yamato, and makes his way to the counter to place his order. Naruto gives him a smile, and Itachi is glad that the blonde is able to restrain the cheerfully loud greeting that usually bursts out of his mouth.

He places his order and sits down in his usual seat – an armchair, with a low table in front of him, and an empty armchair opposite him, in which he places his briefcase.

The girl at the window glances at him. Her gaze does not waver; her stare is intense, and even though he is not looking in her direction, the weight of her gaze on his face is enough to tell him that she is staring. He suppresses a sigh. Though his first impression of her had been a good, albeit intriguing and unusual one, it seems that she is just like every other girl her age – a fan girl. His sanctuary has been invaded, and he feels slightly resentful, for it seems that this is going to be his last visit to the café. He will not tolerate being gaped at and drooled over when he is trying to relax, and he is certain that that is what will happen, once she spreads the word of his presence. Then again, he reminds himself, somewhat morosely, it is not as if Sasuke enjoys his visits anyway. Though he can never tell if Sasuke is feeling embarrassed, shy, annoyed or resentful with regard to his visits, the fact of the matter is that Sasuke hides in the kitchen even more determinedly whenever Itachi patronises the café.

He casts a customary glance in the girl's direction, to take another glimpse of her, so he knows to avoid her in the future.

He freezes.

Contrary to his prior assumptions, the girl does not look at him with the besotted gaze of an infatuated girl, which he is unfortunately very familiar with. Rather, she examines him with all the intensity he has seen the Nara heir analyse a game of shogi. Despite him knowing that his façade is impeccable, and that no unwanted emotion, or telling trait is displayed for her viewing, he feels as if she is seeing his deepest, darkest secrets.

The girl blinks.

She looks away.

Itachi does not.

It is the beginning of something indescribable, undefinable, but most definitely not unwelcome.

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AN2: I am really happy with the reception this has received so far. Please make my day and review! I love to hear from you all, and I'm having a really shitty time at work recently, so any pick-me-ups will be most welcome.

Thanks for reading!

Not sure when the next update will be, but here's to hoping my muse doesn't decide to spontaneously combust... or something.

XOXO

Ice


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Hello everyone!

Here's the next chapter. I decided to add in a girl this time, since the story was becoming too romance-y for my tastes.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and read this, and added the story to their lists. I'm really happy! It cheered me up at work, definitely, even though I'm drowning under piles of work now and am officially turning into a workaholic.

Enjoy!

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Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Duh.

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Amongst the Sea of Faces

Chapter Three

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Ino struts down the pavement as if it is a catwalk, her hair, pulled up in her customary ponytail, swinging slightly. In her designer clothes and accessories, that only serve to enhance and flatter, she is gorgeous, and she knows it. She relishes in the admiring stares, in the jealous glances, in the way people part in the street to make way for her.

She feels important; it is a good feeling.

However, a tiny bit of self-consciousness leaks through, as it is wont to do, and she whips out her handheld mirror to check her reflection. Her makeup is perfectly applied, and her face is flawless. Satisfied, she indulges in a little self-admiration, before glancing absently around – she does not want to do anything as unglamorous as tripping, after all.

Her gaze lands on a girl sitting at the window of a café, staring out into the streets.

Cerulean blue meets emerald green, and she finds herself unable to look away.

The girl herself is unfamiliar; as is the whole street. Ino does not usually traverse this part of town – she finds it a little too shabby and run down for her taste. However, there is nothing either shabby or run down about the girl in question. She is beautiful, in a passive, quiet way that does not scream for attention the way Ino's own looks do, and to Ino's trained eye, her clothes are obviously expensive, well-made, and she recognizes a few brands that even _she_ finds to be slightly costly.

It is not familiarity that locks Ino's gaze in place.

Rather, it is the emotion, or lack thereof, that can be found in the depths of those green eyes.

Suddenly, Ino feels very ashamed of her vanity, of her infatuation with all things skin-deep; it is extremely unlike her, for usually, she simply brushes off people who she feels disapprove of her way of life – they are simply jealous, she reasons. Yet, the expression of cool disinterest on the girl's face does not at all imply jealousy, and truly, what is there for the girl to be jealous of? She is obviously beautiful in her own right, and well-off too. No; instead, Ino feels as if she has been judged, and found to fall short of some standard, whatever it may be. It is not a good feeling.

Uncomfortable, Ino averts her gaze, slipping her mirror into her purse. She walks on for a few paces, before stopping abruptly. She fights an internal battle, struggling with flight-or-fight instincts. Eventually, she musters up what courage she has (and she is proud to say that she does not find herself lacking), and turns, walking with false bravado towards the café.

Let it never be said that Yamanaka Ino is a coward.

As is her style, she faces her problems head on. Somewhat foolishly, Ino has allowed The Girl at the Window to become the embodiment of something larger than herself in those few seconds Ino has been aware of her existence. By her warped logic, she is facing all her fears _(of not being good enough, of _never_ being good enough, of finding that her life has been empty, chasing after meaningless things…)_ by facing this petite girl who is probably around the same age as her, who she has just met and never even talked to.

She wrinkles her nose at the slightly dilapidated storefront, before shaking the thought away as irrelevant.

She enters the café.

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Ino is surprised by the interior of the café – it is classy, elegant, cosy and homey all at once, and it fairly screams upper-class tastes. She lets her gaze linger admiringly along the décor, and then on the staff and patrons. On an ordinary day, she would have flirted coyly with the unexpected myriad of handsome men that is stashed away in this tiny café. Today, however, this meeting with the girl has penetrated through the haze of petty worries and superficiality that she surrounds herself with, and Ino barely spares them a second glance as she makes a beeline for the girl. She does, however, notice that the attention of majority of the occupants of the café snaps to her as they realize her intended destination.

On her part, the Girl at the Window has turned halfway around in her seat, so that she is facing Ino as she approaches, calmly regarding her with a slight smile. She gestures to the empty stool beside her, an invitation to join her. Ino acquiesces, perching on the stool, facing the girl.

Up close, she is even more beautiful, though the serene expression on her face is slightly unnerving. In fact, Ino finds her whole demeanour unnerving; it is as if the girl before her has had years, decades, _centuries_ more experience than herself, and Ino feels tiny before her, despite _knowing_ that the girl cannot be more than a year or two older than her, at the most.

The girl breaks the silence first. At the sound of her voice, the men in the café seem to wake out of their stupor, and they return to their tasks, though Ino suspects that they are listening with all their might.

"Would you like a slice? It's delicious."

The girl slides the plate of untouched cake towards her. Ino examines the cake – it seems to be a work of art, rather than a source of sustenance, and this is coming from the girl who dines at five-star restaurants every other day. She feels the urge to decline – she is on yet another diet, and this would ruin it – but she glances at the girl. Once again, her petty worries and problems seem so insignificant.

She takes a bite, closing her eyes as she savours it. It is delicious. Her thoughts must have shown on her face, for the girl smiles and continues, "It's good, isn't it? It's my favourite." As she finishes speaking, the blonde waiter walks up to them, gently placing another slice of the cake in front of the girl. She smiles up at him, saying, "Thank you, Naruto."

Ino is surprised that the girl is so familiar with the staff that she addresses them without honorifics –she seems like the kind of person who would be overly polite. She must be a regular in the café.

The blonde waiter also sets down a pot of tea and a cup before Ino. When she moves to open her purse, a light touch lands on her arm.

"This one is on me," The girl smiles.

The girl continues to talk about petty things – the weather, the economy, what she likes to eat in the café. Ino replies, occasionally, but conversation is still stilted, uncomfortable, so unlike her normal behaviour; Ino cannot relax. She feels very much out of her depth. The girl does not ask why Ino has joined her, nor does she even ask for Ino's name. She does not offer her own name, either, nor any other personal information. Ino thinks that she prefers that; any personal information would make this meeting all the more real.

Finally, Ino glances at her watch, and it is a sign that she has to leave. She finds herself relieved. The girl takes the hint, and ends her monologue with a slight smile.

Ino glances at her empty plate – the cake had been irresistible. She knows that she will regret eating it the next day, when this meeting becomes naught but a distant memory.

She sneaks a glance at the girl again.

Then again, maybe not.

* * *

She is curious – and slightly afraid – of this odd girl, who is able to so easily bring all her insecurities and secret fears to the fore.

She leaves the café.

She does not return.

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AN2: Heh! Sorry for any confusion regarding the copious amounts of 'she' used, but I like writing like that.

Also, sorry for making Ino possess a slight inferiority complex, but I think that this is a very real possibility for an Ino who has lived in the modern world. Also, I think we all have a little bit of Ino in all of us. And, like most human beings, when we are confronted with something that makes us uncomfortable, especially truths about ourselves that we don't like, Ino avoids it.

On the comment on honorifics: In this fic, they're speaking Japanese, so they use suffixes like '-kun' and '-san'. Using a name without honorifics, especially one's first name, is an implication of either a close relationship or a sign of rudeness. I'll let you guess which context Sakura uses it in.

And the main point of this chapter is that Sakura affects the lives of those around her, and those she meets in passing, but not always in a positive manner.

Alright, I think that's all.

Thanks for reading! Please review and tell me what you think about it. Preferably politely, thanks.

XOXO

Ice


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Hello everyone!

Welcome to another chapter of AtSoF! I struggled a little with this chapter, so I'd love to hear what you think about it!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and favourited/followed this story, you guys make my day!

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Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto, I don't even know what's happening in the latest chapters. I'm totally lost.

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Amongst the Sea of Faces

Chapter Four

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Gaara crosses the street in unhurried, lengthy strides. He is on his way to another meeting. He sighs.

Such is the life of a Yakuza.

Gaara is not only one of the Yakuza, though; in fact, he is the head of one of the Yakuza clans, and is widely known and feared. He is actually meeting with his subordinates for his daily 'briefings' - he likes to keep updated on clan affairs, for as fearsome as he is, he prides himself in his just leadership - and he has just come from a meeting with the clan elders for yet another session where veiled threats and arrogant bragging are the norm. If it would not result in chaos among his clan (and not the organized kind he covets), he would gladly have slaughtered the annoying idiots.

As it is, Gaara is in such a bad mood from the previous meeting that he is working out his frustration with a rather long stroll around his 'turf'; he has decided, as usual, to refuse the expensive car and entourage of bodyguards that is the norm for clan heads - he knows that he is more than capable of taking care of himself, and more importantly, so does everyone else. Even the pathetically oblivious people walking along the streets are able to sense the shadow of bloodlust and tightly-reigned-in fury that hangs around him, and they avert their eyes and bow their heads to him, subconsciously submissive before this predator, hurrying on, eager to get out of his sight and fade from his attention.

If Gaara were not against showing emotion, he would have sneered in disgust, though he revels in their fear. In fact, he can admit that to a certain extent, it sustains him, comforts him. He openly seeks their fear, casting his eyes about, seeking eye contact, so he can see that moment when fear floods their expression and becomes so palpable he can practically _taste _it.

Jade meets emerald, and Gaara's stride falters. Though he continues to walk, he does so at a slower pace, his gaze locked onto that of the girl. He does not bother to glance in front of him, expecting people to get out of his way - they do.

The girl stares at him, and he waits for the fear to make its appearance, but it does not. She continues to regard him with the same detached disinterest that had caught his eye. Finally she averts her eyes, not out of fear, but out of boredom.

It is a novel experience for Gaara.

Not that he has never experienced such looks; on the contrary, that look seems to be the trademark of the higher ups in the Yakuza - not the old bastards who are the older generation of clan heads, but the younger generation - the Akatsuki, in particular. No, it is not that.

It is the fact that she is so obviously not one of them - not a seasoned fighter, not an experienced Yakuza - yet she is still able to remain unaffected by his presence. This delicate, obviously rich and probably sheltered girl has the ability to do what many grown men cannot:

Hold his gaze without being intimidated, and consequentially, interest Sabaku no Gaara.

The next day, Gaara decides to take the same route to his meeting; his eyes meet hers again.

He comes back the next day.

And the next.

* * *

It becomes a habit for him - every day, at the same time, he rounds the same corner of the same street. He glances up expectantly. And, as usual, she is sitting in the same seat in Hatake Kakashi's cafe, impeccably dressed, her eyes already riveted on the spot he will appear from.

Their eyes meet for a few seconds, then her lips curve slightly, and the corner of his mouth lifts briefly.

No words are exchanged.

None are needed.

* * *

He had initially started this as a way to satisfy his curiosity about the girl, but the fleeting interactions between them gradually come to mean much more. The routine becomes a comfort to him, and he finds himself taking that route even when his meeting for the day has been cancelled, when he has been injured (from an instance of insubordination he had mercilessly suppressed single-handedly), when he shouldn't be there.

On yet another day, he heads to the same corner of the same street. However, there is something different today.

He is running late.

In truth, it is only by two minutes. However, Gaara likes to be punctual for meetings that he feels are important, and none are more important than his meetings with that girl, despite the fact that they only span for a few seconds. He finds himself looking forward to them daily, and the fact that he is off-schedule puts him in a stormier mood than usual.

His mood is evident even as his face remains a blank slate - in the way the air fairly crackles around him, and the way his movements are jerkier than normal, as if he longs to lash out and destroy something. The people in the street would not put it past him. They avoid him even more than usual, a few running across the street in desperation to avoid him. Their fear does little to lighten his mood.

He glances at his watch. Three minutes late.

He scowls, fierce as a lion that has never been tamed.

More people dart across the street.

As he turns the corner of the street, he glances up out of habit - and though he won't admit it, a little bit of hope.

And there she is, the pink-haired girl in the cafe window. Emerald eyes catch and hold his gaze. He feels a funny, warm feeling at the thought that she had continued to look in the direction where he would come from, that she had waited for him to appear.

The Girl at the Window glances at her watch, then back at him, and the message rings loud and clear:

_'You're late.'_

The faintest of smiles curls her lips.

He blinks in acknowledgement, and continues on. And if his mood is just that little bit lighter, he pretends not to notice.

He thinks he's finally found something worth protecting.

* * *

AN2: Tadaaaah!

Please tell me what you think about the chapter!

And, I've created a Twitter account (my friend calls it a 'fangirl' account) so follow me if you could! And drop me a message with your ff . net penname, so I vaguely know who you guys are! Let's be friends! If I don't reply, it's probably because I'm sleeping, time differences and all... I'll definitely do so when I wake up!

I wanted to use it as a platform to give updates/sneak previews of my fanfics, but no one's following me so I'm just talking/fangirling to myself (laughs) My username is 'icicleojousama'

Alrighty, that's all I wanted to say!

XOXO

Ice


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Hello everyone!

Thanks to all my readers, reviewers, and people who added this story/me to their lists!

It's been quite the journey to churn this chapter out. More details in my bottom author's note.

For now, enjoy!

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Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

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Amongst the Sea of Faces

Chapter Five

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"Ano… Nice to meet you! My name is Lee!"

Sakura surveys the form of the young man before her, currently bent in a low bow. She faintly recognizes him, for she has seen him often, exiting the sporting equipment store that is situated right next to the café. The young man – who she now knows is called Lee – always wears the same outfit: a green jumpsuit with orange legwarmers. It attracts many stares on the street, stares that he is oblivious to. The first time Sakura saw him, she had to raise a hand to her lips to stifle a laugh, for he truly made a rather comical sight, with his bowl haircut and often accompanied by a man whom Sakura assumes is his mentor, for they are practically twins in their attire and haircuts (and eyebrows).

Sakura also remembers the way that Lee would stare admiringly at her, in a manner that he mistakenly thinks is discrete, though this is the first time that he has dared to enter the café and actually talk to her. Sakura is self-aware; she knows that her looks are above average, though she does not place much, if any, value on good looks (rather unlike, she thinks distantly, that blonde girl she had met, a while ago).

She gently dislodges herself from this train of thought, as she remembers the man before her.

"Ah, yes," She says with a small smile, "Nice to meet you. My name is Sakura."

"Sakura-san!" Lee lunges forward, startling her as he grasps her right hand in both of his. She dimly registers Naruto's shout of indignation in the background, and the fact that most of the occupants of the café are rather blatantly staring. "A beautiful name, truly befitting a delicate flower such as yourself!"

"I'm flattered," She says, though her smile does not widen. She does not remove her hand from his grasp, though the desire to do so is present. The overemphasis on her pleasing outward appearance would flatter most girls, but she merely feels objectified into a thing of beauty, a decoration.

She remembers cold smiles and apathetic eyes that stare at her and evaluate her worth based on her looks, her achievements, her family background, her reputation. She remembers being groomed to be the perfect trophy wife. She remembers being told repeatedly to remain quiet, to speak only if spoken to, to smile prettily and fade into the background.

Nevertheless, her smile does not falter. She has had too much practice to let it.

"Ah, but the reason for this meeting is not just to introduce myself!" Lee continues, oblivious to her inner thoughts. He stares at her hand, still in his grasp, and two spots of red appear on his cheeks as he ducks his head. "Actually, Sakura-san…" He begins, and Sakura knows what he is going to say before the words make their way out of his mouth. The ends of her mouth fall, and her lips press together, forming a thin line.

"I am in love with you!"

* * *

It seems as if the whole café has been frozen in that moment.

Naruto stares at the duo, speechless and still for the first time in his life. Kakashi's gaze is not on the open book before him, but is instead focused with burning intensity on Lee. Sai's perpetual smile is nowhere to be seen, and Sasuke's scowl is formidable, as is Yamato's.

No one quite knows how they should react.

An eternity passes. Then the girl at the window smiles. It isn't a particularly happy smile; in fact, it can be said to be somewhat empty. The haunting beauty of that smile sends a chill up Lee's spine and goosebumps rise throughout the length of his arms.

"Thank you." She speaks words of gratitude, while feeling anything but.

She thinks that he is simply infatuated with her for her appearance. They have never met before, not in the real sense of the word, have never even spoken a _word_ to each other, and their interactions mainly consist of her giving him a passing glance and him staring at her – which only enforces her conviction that his feelings for her are based solely on things that are skin-deep.

Yet, he says that he _loves_ her.

One cannot love another simply based on how they look. To say, with such conviction, that he "loves" her, like this…

She will not – _can_ not – tolerate people reducing the value of love in such a manner.

She remembers being courted not because she is loved, but because she is perfect – as a trophy. She remembers a hand callously shoving a ring onto her finger, saying "I love you" to her for the sake of the onlookers – the elite of society who give them indulgent smiles – mocking the true meaning of those three words, and tarnishing her view of them forever, those three most important and most _cherished_ words that she had hoped someone would say to her one day…

She remembers having to force a smile as she cried, not from happiness as the onlookers thought, but from the feeling that she was trapped, trapped forever with no way out –

Nevertheless, like the lady she has been raised to be, she shakes off the memories and remains polite to the green-clad man, in the short time that he lingers before leaving the café, dejected.

She thinks that he 'loves' her for her looks.

She is wrong.

* * *

Lee will admit that at first, he had been attracted to her for her looks. But that is not why he loves her.

As he found himself looking at her more and more, darting shy glances at her whenever he passed, more than just admiring her outward appearance, Lee found himself observing the way she acted.

The way she watched the crowd, equal parts wistful and detached, intelligence a bright gleam in her eye.

The way she would always smile genuinely at the blonde waiter, indulging his antics as he tried to cheer her up.

The way she saw him – really, really _saw_ him, instead of seeing him as 'just that weirdo in the green jumpsuit'.

All these, and more, _so much_ more about that pink-haired girl, drew him to her like bees to honey. He could not seem to tear his eyes away from her, and every day seemed to bring with it a new realisation of her personality, seemed to reveal a new quirk about her…

Until one day, he'd realised that he'd gone past the line of being just a 'secret admirer'.

He realised that the Girl at the Window had stolen his heart.

* * *

AN: Well, here's the next chapter. You will not believe how difficult it was for me to settle on what to write for this chapter, it was exhausting.

I've slipped in tidbits of Sakura's background and life outside of the cafe. How do you guys find it? I'm contemplating the way this story would go, and on the suggestion of my friend, I'm asking you guys if you'd prefer learning more about her life, since I've given you hints now, or you'd prefer this story to remain a plot-less, drabble kind of fic.

On another note, I love Lee, really! When he protected Sakura during the chuunin exams I was utterly charmed, but that doesn't excuse the fact that he obviously liked Sakura for her looks only. I tried to make it seem like he didn't do so here, because Lee in this universe is older and hopefully wiser, so he wouldn't be as superficial. Then again, somehow, my characterisation might make him seem like a creepy stalker...?

Life has been distressingly hectic as of late, even though my contract at my temporary workplace ended and I'm technically an unemployed slob waiting for university to begin at the moment, because among other things, my dad had a heart attack. It hit me pretty hard and it's taken me a while to find a day where I can actually sit in front of the computer and type something out.

As such, VINTA's next chapter will take a while more to write, please be patient!

Your reviews keep me going, so please review.

Once again, thanks for reading!

(Please excuse any errors in the chapter, I don't have a beta, nor do I forsee one in the near future.)

XOXO

Ice


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Hello everyone!

Thanks for all the well wishes and encouragement. I love you all, my darlings!

In other news, this chapter is one of my absolute favourites, though I couldn't get the feel I wanted.

Many many thanks and hugs to my reviewers and to all my readers!

Alright, on with the story.

* * *

Disclaimer: If I owned Naruto, I'd be able to afford a new pair of jeans.

* * *

Amongst the Sea of Faces

Chapter Six

* * *

Then one day, she is not there.

Itachi glances at her usual seat, the newspaper clasped in his hands crinkling harshly as his fingers clench. He is worried.

Gaara passes by, his eyes flickering towards the café windows, but jade does not meet emerald green. This realisation brings him to an abrupt stop, and he stares. His expression darkens, and even though he stands in the middle of a busy sidewalk, blocking the way of many, they give him a wide berth, their paths curving around him.

Kakashi's eye constantly strays from his book, to her seat, to the door. He has not turned a page in hours.

* * *

Two days pass. She is not there.

Naruto has broken more cups in those two days than he has in the past year.

Yamato tries to do his 'scary face', only to realise that he has forgotten to change the batteries in his torch.

Sai spills ink all over the painting he is currently working on.

* * *

On the third day, she enters the café, punctual as if the previous days were nought but a dream. Naruto lights up the moment he catches sight of her, and even Sasuke cracks a smile as he pokes his head out from behind the kitchen door to ascertain that she is indeed there. Itachi, who has been in the café from opening to closing time for the past few days, relaxes his iron grip on the report he is currently reading. His eyes soften imperceptibly when Sakura's gaze meets his briefly, as she drinks in the sight of the café. She smiles back at all of them wanly, and gingerly makes her way to her seat.

They can immediately tell that something is wrong.

Eyes narrow, lips thin, and minds whir. Endless possibilities are considered, discarded, and reconsidered.

They do not wait for her to set down her belongings and place her order. Almost before she can blink, a steaming pot of tea, a slice of strawberry shortcake and appropriate cutlery find themselves on her table. The three boys crowd around her, and Naruto, ever impatient, blurts, "Where were you, Sakura-chan?"

She blinks. She has never considered the possibility that she would be missed, in the event of her absence. She briefly entertains the notion that it is simply because every customer counts in a boutique café such as this and that they are just concerned for the business of their café, but dismisses the notion swiftly. She observes the way that most everyone in the café seems to be straining their hearing in anticipation of her answer, and registers the genuine concern in the eyes of those surrounding her. Emotions well up within her, and she discretely clears her throat before replying, "I'm sorry, I was otherwise engaged these past few days."

Naruto's eyes narrow. For all he acts like an idiot, he has noticed the way Sakura has tried to disguise a limp, and the way she gingerly moves her left arm. He has a hunch that she is lying. He is about to call her out on it, and inquire about her health, when Sasuke and Sai tug him away. He turns to them in indignation only to receive a discrete shake of the head. Naruto scowls, but allows himself to be led away.

* * *

Gaara makes his way past the café as usual. He glances at the window, hope warring with worry and anticipated disappointment. When jade finally meets emerald green, he slows to a gradual stop; he finds himself directly opposite her, on the other side of the window, their gazes locked. A weight that he had not noticed was on his shoulders is lifted, and he finds that he can breathe a little easier. He finds it hard to admit, but the absence of what was essentially his anchor had shaken him deeply. Even though he can now confirm her presence right in front of him, only separated by a sheet of glass, it is not enough.

He enters the café.

He feels unbearably awkward and out of place among the delicate cutlery, the fancy décor, and the gourmet sweets. He is a bull in a china shop, but he does not let that deter him from his destination.

The Girl at the Window looks at him, smiling, and pats the seat next to her. He sits, and watches her as she carefully manoeuvres herself to face him. He frowns when he notices that her movements lack their usual grace, and the reasons why that could be so threatens to unearth the fury barely hidden beneath his relief and worry. The girl notices, as she always does, just as she notices how unsettled he has become by her absence.

_When had this girl become so important to him?_ He wonders, before even that thought is chased away as she takes her hand in his.

Gaara does not appreciate physical contact, not unless it is the gratifying thump of his fist against another's flesh. However, holding her hand brings all the comfort of a warm shower on a cold morning; he finds he cannot let go. The tension that had just begun to reappear in his shoulders is washed away once more, and he lets out a shuddering breath, before breathing in deeply. Her scent – of mint and apples and roses – surrounds him, and the reassurance that she is really _here_, that she has not left him, grants him a rare sense of peace. His grip on her hand tightens, though he is careful not to inflict pain on her tiny, delicate hand that seems all the more fragile when compared to his larger, calloused one.

* * *

It is half an hour after Gaara has left the café that Sakura next feels the presence of someone sitting down beside her. A glance reveals that it is Kakashi. Though it is not uncommon for him to lounge next to Sakura on days when business is slow, today is different. Today, Kakashi's book is nowhere in sight, and he sits facing her, instead of the street outside the café. Silence reigns for as long as Sakura can pretend to be oblivious to the weight of his stare, before she finally turns to face him as well.

Their gazes lock for a minute, before his soothing voice sounds.

"Are you alright?"

She smiles sadly as she turns back to watching the people walk by, resting her head on the palm of her right hand.

"I'm always alright."

* * *

It is another hour before Kakashi speaks again. In that time, utter silence had existed between the duo at the storefront, with Kakashi's book making its reappearance at last. However, Sakura can tell that Kakashi's mind is elsewhere, because he has not flipped a single page.

"Hey, Sakura… I know that we – that is, the people in this café – don't know you outside of this place, but if there is anything you need… well, you only have to ask. Okay?"

Sakura stares at him for a long moment, before looking around at the other employees in the café, who had been blatantly eavesdropping. They nod in agreement, and even Itachi, who she has only exchanged a sentence or two with, tilts his head in acknowledgement.

She smiles beautifully. Her heart twists painfully, but it is a good kind of hurt, a dull one that makes her want to embrace them. "Thank you," She says as tears trace a path down her face, "So, _so_ much." They do not know how much it helps, to know that there is a place for her where she is welcomed, where she can feel safe.

They don't know that she could never ask them for anything, for they have already done so much for her - they have made this place into her sanctuary.

Her secret garden, hidden in plain sight.

"The greatest thing you could ever do for me is to just remain like this, forever."

It is Kakashi's turn to stare at her, looking into her eyes as if hoping they would divulge all her secrets to him. As usual, he cannot decipher what the girl is thinking. She remains as much of an enigma to him as she was when she first walked through those doors.

Eventually, his eye crinkles in an unseen smile, and he echoes her as he closes his book with a snap that rings with finality.

"Forever."

* * *

Sakura lingers as long as she dares, though she glances uneasily at her watch every few minutes. _He_ will soon miss her, and she does not wish for yet another confrontation. Her hands clench, and even that insignificant action sends a burst of pain through her. She closes her eyes.

Eventually, she stands, and readies to leave. She waves a farewell to them, and somehow, there is a sombre air about her – as if she is heading towards her execution.

Itachi and Kakashi exchange glances.

The Café is a place of peace and sanctuary – it is a place where they leave the outside world behind. It does not matter if one is rich or poor, man or woman, happy or unhappy. Once they enter the café door, these things do not matter. Patrons and staff alike are allowed to be themselves, without the need for masks and pretences.

It is an unspoken rule that asking about and investigating the lives of fellow patrons and staff is taboo.

However, as the two hold a silent conversation, a consensus is reached.

Their Girl at the Window is in trouble of some sort, and as such, they can no longer stand on the sidelines.

They are going to break the most sacred decree of The Café, and delve into the mysteries of the pink-haired enigma.

* * *

AN2: And this is where I leave you. (Laughs evilly)

Review!

XOXO

Ice


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